THE  LIBRARY 


OF 


THE 


OF 


LOS 


UNIVERSITY 
CALIFORNIA 
ANGELES 


I 


'  Oh,  here  is  the  place  to  bow  down  unto  God  ! 

In  this  holy  temple,  unmarred  by  man's  hand  ; 
Its  preachers  not  men,  the  frail  heirs  of  the  sod, 

But  wind,  cloud,  and  sky,  and  the  heaven-reaching  land." 

(Page  54.) 


POEMS 


BY 

THOMAS   N.  LAWRENCE 


'  Sunshine  of  youth  !    that  once  fell  o'er  me, 
Where  is  your  warmth,  your  glory  now  ?  " 


NEW    YORK 

G.     P.     PUTNAM'S    SONS 

l82    FIFTH   AVENUE 
1879 


PS 


The  fugitive  pieces  which  are  gathered  within  the  pages  of  this 
little  volume,  are  a  part  of  the  few  efforts  of  the  kind  in  which  the 
author  has  indulged.  They  were,  for  the  most  part,  written  many 
years  ago,  early  in  life,  at  the  time 

"  When  Nature  pleased,  for  life  itself  was  new, 
And  the  heart  promised  what  the  fancy  drew." 

They  are  now  printed  as  a  memento  for  a  few  friends  of  the  author. 


613016 
•UK! 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

MUSINGS               .                 .                 .                 .                 .  .7 

THE   AMERICAN  FLAG             ....  12 

AN  INDIAN  LEGEND        .                  .                  .                  .  •       J5 

YOUTH  AND  AGE     .....  17 

HYMN  TO  THE  STARS    ...  19 

THE  PAST    ......  21 

SUMMER  IS  GONE               .                  .                  .                  .  23 

THE  CLOUDS                .....  25 

WHAT  I  LOVE    .                   .                   .                   .                   .  .26 

LIFE                 ......  28 

SHALL  MAN  CONDEMN  HIS  FELLOW  MAN              .  .       29 

TO  COMMERCE           .                  .                  .                  .                  .  31 

A  HAZEL  EYE     .                   .                   .                   .                   .  -33 

ROBERT  BURNS          .....  34 

DEATH                     .                   .                   .                   .                   .  -35 

ODE  TO  HOPE             .....  37 

AMERICA                .                   .                   .                   .                   .  .40 

TO  MISS  KATE  —                        ....  42 

THE    INWARD    LIGHT                       .                  .                  .  -45 
LIGHTS    AND    SHADOWS        .                                    .                  .48 

TO    A    YOUNG    LADY       .                  .                  .                  .  -5° 

WEST    POINT               .                  .                  .                  .                  .  52 

THE  SKULL          .                   .                   .                   .                   .  .56 

THE  POET  ......  58 


MUSINGS. 
I. 

'Tis  sweet  at  eve,  at  tranquil  summer  eve, 

When  dewy  twilight  settles  on  the  earth, 
And  night  begins  her  dusky  veil  to  weave, 

To  wander  forth  and  ponder  nature's  worth  ; 
To  view  her  mighty  works :  the  dome  of  heaven, 

Infinite  structure  of  the  Eternal  Mind 
Suspended,  and  a  shield  in  mercy  given 

But  to  conceal  the  dazzling  light  behind, 
Lest  the  unclouded  blaze  should  strike  weak  mor 
tals  blind. 


(7) 


8  MUSINGS. 

II. 

In  musings  deep,  and  wandering  slowly  on, 

I  see  the  moon  borne  on  her  wings  of  light. 
Our  happiest  moments  are  the  soonest  gone,- 

Some  dark  cloud  shades  her,  and  'tis  doubly  night, 
I  see  the  stars,  as  lit  by  angel  hands, 

Fancy  conveys  their  images  to  view ; 
Behold  them  roaming  in  celestial  bands. 

And  these  bright  visions  I  would  oft  renew, 
Though  some  will  say  I  dream  ;  at  times,  perchance 
I  do. 


III. 

'Tis  sweet  to  have  some  kindred  being  near, 
Some  gentle  spirit,  most  divinely  bright, 

In  whose  soft  voice  the  tones  of  love  we  hear, 
And  in  whose  form  the  graces  all  unite. 


MUSINGS.  ( 

What  more  than  this  can  make  earth  paradise? 

This  dearest  idol  of  the  heart's  affection- 
There's  a  divinity  in  her  dark  eyes, 

A  beaming  lustre  in  their  calm  reflection, 
Which  wakens  us  to  dream  of  heavenly  perfection. 


IV. 

'Tis  sweet  to  ride  upon  the  breast  of  ocean, 

In  some  proud  bark  that  speeds  before  the  blast  ; 
To  feel  within  our  souls  the  deep  emotion, 

As  wave  on  wave  sweeps  hurriedly  apast  ; 
To  own  the  majesty  of  the  creation, 

The  solemn  grandeur  of  the  mighty  sea. 
That  ever  rolls  sublimely  on  its  station — 

Borne  on  its  mountain  billows,  what  are  we  ? 
Frail  as  the  leaves  when  winds  are  sweeping  down 
the  lea. 


10  MUSINGS. 

V. 

'Tis  sweet  to  lean  on  Memory's  faithful  arm, 

And  through  dim  mists  of  vanished  years  to  rove, 
To  think  how  Hope  could  once  Ambition  warm, 

Ere  disappointment's  withering  wreath  was  wove  ; 
Sweet  to  recall  some  joyful  scene  long  past, 

Some  happy  hour  heart-treasured  from  the  few, 
When  Pleasure's  mantle  o'er  our  forms  was  cast ; 

When  the  swift  days  on  rapid  pinions  flew, 
And  joy  and  gladness  brought  to  lead  us  on  anew. 


VI. 

All  the  bright  visions  of  my  early  years 

Have  perished  in  the  appalling  flight  of  time ; 

Struggling  along  this  darkening  vale  of  tears 
Gone  are  the  dreamings  of  my  youthful  prime. 


MUSINGS.  I  I 

In  vain  !  in  vain  !     The  clouds  close  overhead, 
The  tempest  sweeps  across  the  gloomy  sky, 

And  the  lone  wanderer  moves  with  faltering  tread, 
Seeking  an  unfound  boon  with  hopeless  eye, 

Where  dim  and  dark  the  shadows  of  the  future  lie. 


VII. 

Thus  must  it  be  !  such  is  the  fate  of  man  ! 

Such  is  the  story  of  poor  human  life ! 
Could  youthful  eyes  the  coming  future  scan, 

The  heart  would  fail  for  the  unequal  strife. 
Lo  !  through  the  gloom  a  radiant  gleam  outshines- 

The  darkness  scatters  like  the  fleeing  night, 
And  clearly  limned  in  brilliant,  glorious  lines, 

Beyond  the  tomb  there  streams  unending  light 
From    the    great    throne   of   God    upon  th'  eternal 
height. 


THE  AMERICAN  FLAG. 

Flag  of  the  free  heart's  hope  and  home  ! 

By  angel  hands  to  valor  given, 
Thy  stars  have  lit  the  welkin  dome, 

And  all  thy  hues  were  born  in  heaven. — DRAKE. 

That  flag  which  led  our  fathers  on 

To  rescue  Freedom  from  her  grave — 
Which  floated  high  in  years  long  gone, 

A  beacon  to  the  free  and  brave, 
Has  streamed  o'er  many  a  well  fought  fieldr 
Has  many  a  free-born  spirit  steeled, 
Since  first  its  blazon  was  unfurled 
To  hover  o'er  the  Western  world- 
To  hover  o'er  the  ocean  wide, 
At  once  the  glory  and  the  pride 
Of  every  heart  that  ever  beat 

Beneath  that  glorious  standard  sheet. 

(12) 


THE  AMERICAN  FLAG.  13 

And  it  has  stood  where  blood  has  flowed, 
As  flow  the  torrent  rains  from  heaven, 

When  hidden  by  the  sulphurous  cloud 

That  from  the  cannon  thundering  loud, 

With  the  iron  sleet  was  driven  : 
And  as  it  waved  in  battle,  first 

Unfurled  before  the  Briton's  eye, 

So  waves  it  now,  where'er  hath  burst 

From  these  freed  shores  the  battle  cry ; 
And  thus  forever  may  it  stand 

Whilst  freemen  breathe  a  breath  of  air, 
Whilst  Liberty  can  raise  a  hand 
To  shield  her  own,  her  chosen  land, 
In  beaming  splendor  there. 

Methinks  when  countless  years  have  flown, 
When  time  is  furrowed  o'er  with  age, 

When  Europe's  kingdoms  are  but  known 
As  what  they  were  from  history's  page, 


1 4  THE  A  ME  RICA  N  FLA  G. 

I  see  that  banner  brighter  grow, 

Unstained  by  years,  undimmed  by  time, 
But  gathering  splendor  in  the  flow 

Of  centuries,  uncursed  with  crime. 
In  fancy's  dream  I  see  it  now 
Where  many  servile  nations  bow — 
Kingdoms  that  once  the  world  controlled 

But  sunk  in  deeper  shade  than  night — 
I  see  that  glorious  sheet  unrolled 

Resplendent  as  the  morning  light. 


AN  INDIAN  LEGEND. 

There  is  a  legend  wild  and  strange, 

An  Indian  tribe  among, 
That  where  their  guardian  spirits  range 

A  harp  from  heaven  is  hung- 
Which  touched  by  an  angelic  wing 

Sends  forth  celestial  notes, 
That  ope  the  flowers  which  bud  in  spring 

Where'er  that  music  floats. 
They  pray  the  angel  minstrel  may 

Strike  loudly  with  his  wing, 
That  the  sound  may  pass  far,  far  away, 

And  thus  the  Indians  sing : 

"  Oh,  strike  the  full  and  sounding  chords 

To  a  high  and  pealing  tone, 
And  let  the  wild  and  thrilling  words 

On  whirlwind  blasts  be  blown. 

(is) 


1 6  AN  INDIA N  LEGEND, 

To  the  forest  lone,  to  the  desert  cave, 

• 

Where'er  the  wild  flowers  torn 
From  their  parent  stems  have  found  a  grave, 

Let  that  full  sound  be  borne ; 
To  wake  them  from  their  dreaming  bed, 

To  break  the  icy  chain, 
And  bid  them  rise  as  from  the  dead 

To  hallow  the  earth  again. 
And  let  that  swelling  sound  sweep  by 

To  the  broad  and  boundless  deep, 
And  breathe  its  sweetest  melody 

Where  the  ocean  flow'rets  sleep." 

They'll  start  as  they  hear  the  joyous  sound 

V 

From  coral  grot,  from  gilded  mound, 

From  sea-green  caves  where  diamonds  lie, 

That  dazzle  the  Naiads  sparkling  eye. 


YOUTH  AND  AGE. 

I. 

See'st  thou  yon  gay  and  festive  throng 

Who  lightly  bound  with  buoyant  tread, 
Their  happiest  hours  of  life  along, 

Ere  youthful  joys  and  hopes  have  fled? 
The  blood  is  flowing  free  and  strong, 

Through  hearts  which  sorrow  never  spread 
Her  withering,  blighting  touch  among ; 
Nor  seared  their  feelings  fresh  and  young, 

Nor  bid  them  mourn  the  dead. 


II. 

Years  have  rolled  on  :  Now  look  again. 

Thou  see'st  no  more  that  youthful  band, 
So  free  from  care,  and  grief,  and  pain, 

Treading  so  gaily  on  the  land ; 

(17) 


1 8  YOUTH  AND  AGE. 

But  scattered  wide  o'er  earth  and  main  ; 

Now  bowed  with  age  ;  and  many  a  hand 
That  pressed  to  thine  with  friendly  strain 
Will  never  grasp  thine  own  again- 

They'll  greet  thee  in  the  spirit  land. 


HYMN  TO  THE  STARS. 

Ye  stars !  ye  glittering  founts  of  light, 
Unveiled  before  the  wondering  sight ; 
Ye  tireless  orbs  that  wander  on 
Through  night  across  the  heavenly  zone, 
Yon  vaulted  roof,  yon  arch  of  blue, 
Spread  out  before  the  awe-struck  view, 
Seeming  so  near,  yet  so  remote, 
O'erwhelming  all  our  highest  thought : 
Infinity  scarce  knows  the  bounds 

Which  hold  you  in  your  ceaseless  rounds, 
Forever  circling  in  that  light 
That  guides  you  in  your  endless  flight. 
You  cannot  break  from  out  your  sphere, 
A  power  unseen  still  holds  you  there ; 
Forever  willed  through  trackless  space 

i 

To  run  your  everlasting  race ; 

(19) 


2O  HYMN  TO   THE  STARS. 

Forever  willed — oh,  would  to  Heaven 
That  such  a  fate  to  me  were  given- 
To  blazon  through  those  azure  skies 
To  which  our  aspirations  rise, 
And  shine  with  you  a  burning  ray 
To  light  the  careless  eye  of  man, 
And  mind  him  of  his  form  of  clay, 
His  earthly  life  a  dwindling  span. 

Worshipped  of  yore,  and  deemed  divine 

What  sacrifices  at  your  shrine  ! 

What  hecatombs,  what  heaps  of  slain, 

Have  thousands  offered  up  in  vain  ! 

Not  now  adored  ;  admired  alone, 

All  bloodless  is  the  altar  stone ; 

The  sacrifice  is  now  to  Him 

Before  whose  name  your  lights  grow  dim. 

And  men  have  looked  with  piercing  eye, 
And  anxious  faces  to  the  sky, 


HYMN  TO   THE  STARS.  21 

To  find  perchance  that  star  of  fate 
On  which  their  good  or  ill  should  wait, 
And  dwelt  with  raptured  eye  to  see 
How  bright  their  star  of  destiny. 

Mysterious  worlds !  who  can  your  birth  relate  ? 

Or  say  from  whence  ye  did  originate  ? 

The  mystery  of  mysteries  around  you  lies ; 

A  veil  unpierced  by  mortal  eyes. 

Oh,  are  your  founts  as  full  of  light, 

And  is  your  radiance  still  as  bright, 

As  on  that  morning  when  the  heavenly  plain, 

Listened  with  rapture  to  your  primal  strain, 

And  bent  around  you  in  its  arch  of  blue, 

Your  mighty  hymn  of  gladness  pealing  through  ? 


THE  PAST. 

The  Past !  the  Past !  what  sad  thoughts  cling 

Around  that  mournful  word  ; 
How  many  sacred  feelings  spring, 

In  memory's  fountain  stirred. 

Of  hours — of  days — of  years  gone  by, 

Of  pleasures  long  since  fled — 
Of  friends  for  whom  in  vain  we  sigh 

Those  friends  are  with  the  dead. 

Our  childhood's  home,  our  early  years, 

Come  thronging  at  the  call ; 
And  wring  from  out  our  hearts  the  tears 

That  chasten  as  they  fall. 

• 

The  inmost  soul  must  wake  within 

The  most  unfeeling  breast, 
When  thoughts  like  these  revive  again, 

That  long  have  been  at  rest. 

(22) 


SUMMER  IS  GONE. 
I. 

How  quickly  fly  the  gladsome  hours 
Of  Summer,  and  her  blooming  flowers  ; 

Which  turn  their  faces  from  the  breeze, 
And  bend  their  unresisting  forms, 

Bowing  before  the  stern  decrees 
Of  Nature,  and  the  God  of  storms. 

They  blush  beneath  the  sun's  bright  tinge, 
That  robes  them  in  a  thousand  dyes ; 

Then  shrink  before  his  rays,  and  cringe, 
And  fade  away  before  our  eyes. 

II. 
As  quickly  pass  the  summer  hours 

Of  childhood's  gay  and  lightsome  years, 
And  Age  with  chilling  aspect  lowers, 

To  blast  each  joy  that  life  endears. 

(23) 


24  SUMMER  IS  GONE. 

Summer  is  gone :  I  do  not  grieve 

That  she  is  passing  from  the  earth : 
For  soon  the  hand  of  Time  will  weave, 

Anew  his  garland  at  her  birth. 
Full  soon  her  hours  will  come  again, 

And  pass  as  swiftly  as  before, 
And  bear  in  their  departing  train, 

The  transient  sweets  of  earth  once  more. 

III. 
I  do  not  grieve !     A  pensive  sadness, 

A  feeling  near  akin  to  gladness, 

A  kind  of  melancholy  joy 
Steals  o'er  me,  as  I  muse  and  dream 

Of  better  lands,  without  alloy, 
Where  all  is  one  perpetual  gleam 

Of  Summer  suns  forever  more, 
Where  bloom  the  human  flowers  that  fade, 
In  second  birth  ;  angels  arrayed 

In  vestments  fading  never  more. 


THE  CLOUDS. 

The  clouds,  in  fleecy  folds  of  light, 
Lie  piled  in  surge-like  foam  aboon, 

Casting  their  shadowy  forms  in  flight 
Before  the  dimm'd  and  darken'd  moon. 

Those  shadowy  forms,  how  bright  they  seem, 
As  floating  on  the  brow  of  night, 

They  bear,  in  fancy's  pictured  dream, 
The  seraph-angels  in  their  flight. 


(25) 


WHAT  I  LOVE. 

I. 

I  love  to  see  the  lightning  flash 

Across  the  red  and  flaming  skv  ; 

o  ^ 

I  love  to  hear  the  thunder's  crash, 
The  hollow  waves'  low  moaning  dash, 

Come  murrrTring  on  the  shrill  winds  by, 
That  soon  will  burst  in  louder  roar, 
And  pile  the  surging  waves  upon  the  shore. 

II. 

\ 

I  love  the  earth  :  its  crystals  streams 

That  murmur  on  their  pebbly  path  ; 
Its  flowers  enshrined  in  beauty's  beams, 
Its  trees  that  wave  in  golden  gleams  ; 
Yet  the  green  earth  no  feature  hath 
But  Time  will  crumble  in  his  might, 
And  sink  its  splendor  in  eternal  night. 

(26) 


WHAT  I  LOVE.  27 

III. 

I  love  the  sky  :  its  arch  of  blue 

Begemmed  with  glowing  orbs  of  light ; 

Its  queen  of  pale  and  silvery  hue, 
Its  king  that  dims  my  dazzled  sight ; 
Its  gorgeous  clouds,  with  splendor  bright  ; 

Those  fires  will  die — the  arch  will  fall, 

And  shroud  the  darkened  earth  beneath  its  pall. 

/ 
IV. 

I  love  : — but  all  I  love  will  fade ; — 

All  Nature's  forms  will  pass  away  ; 
But  He,  the  almighty  power  that  made, 
He  who  the  earth's  foundations  laid, 

Will  live,  and  live  beyond  decay  ; 
And  joyfully  will  gather  in  his  realm 
The  children  of  his  love  ;  all  else  o'erwhelm. 


LIFE. 

I. 
Life  is  a  sweetly  flowing  dream, 

To  the  happy,  the  free,  and  the  gay  ; 

Like  a  bright,  clear,  glittering,  lucid  stream 
Bursting  forth  on  a  sunny  day; 

Flowing  o'er  many  a  graceful  swell, 

'Mid  flower-enamell'd  meads, 
Or  winding  through  a  shady  dell, 

O'erhung  with  embowering  reeds. 

II. 
Life  is  a  slowly  lengthening  path, 

To  the  dreary,  the  hopeless,  forlorn  ; 
Like  a  torrent  that  sweeps  in  gathering  wrath, 

O'er  a  fearful  precipice  borne  ; 
To  the  deep,  the  lone,  and  the  hidden  caves 

Where  the  light  hath  never  been- 
Lost  and  unknown  the  murm'ring  waves 

Flow  down  unto  depths  unseen. 

(28) 


SHALL  MAN  CONDEMN  HIS  FELLOW  MAN  ? 

Shall  man  condemn  his  fellow  man, 
To  bear  the  scourge  and  wear  the  ban  ? 
Go  ask  the  waves  if  ocean's  roar 
Shall  ever  sound  in  conflict  more. 
Go  ask  the  earth,  the  broad  wide  earth, 
If  it  can  tell  when  it  had  birth. 
Go  ask  it  when  its  Maker's  hand 
The  ocean  severed  from  the  land. 
Go  ask  it,  and  the  echo's  din 

i 

Will  sink,  and  ne'er  be  heard  again. 

Shall  man  condemn  his  fellow  man, 

To  bear  the  scourge  and  wear  the  ban  ? 

(29) 


3O      SHALL  MAN  CONDEMN'  HIS  FELLOW  MAN! 
The  wildest  thought  that  fancy  brings 

• 

The  brightest  hope  that  in  us  springs  ; 
The  sweetest  pleasure,  purest  joy, 
Will  in  the  human  bosom  cloy. 


\ 


But  whilst  the  earth  together  stands ; 
Whilst  nature  works  the  high  commands 
Of  Him,  supremely  good  and  great 
Above  all  human  estimate, 
Will  man  condemn  his  fellow  man, 
To  bear  the  scourge  and  wear  the  ban. 


TO  COMMERCE. 

Hail,  glorious  Commerce,  Thine  all  potent  chain 
Links  realms  and  nations  in  one  wide  domain : 
Self-interest  binds  them,  and  makes  firm  the  tie ; 
Wealth  follows  in  thy  track,  and  shades  of  darkness 

fly: 

Not  Wealth  alone,  Thou  spurn'st  th'  ignoble  word, 
The    lowest    and    the    least   thy   course    hath    ever 

stirred. 
Hail  then   to   thee !     Thou  spread'st  thy  fluttering 

wings, 

And  floatest  o'er  the  deeps  of  ocean's  springs  ; 
From  clime  to  clime,  that  else  for  thee  unknown, 
Were  lost  to  virtue,  and  with  vice  o'ergrown, 
Were  dead  to  all  the  nobler  feelings  of  the  soul, 

Th'  aspiring  wish,  the  heart  that  spurns  control, 

(31) 


32  TO  COMMERCE. 

The  generous  joy,  the  warm  and  feeling  breast ; 
The  smile  of  kindness  on  the  face  expressed. 
The  mind  of  honor,  open,  candid,  free, 
Above  all  meanness  or  hypocrisy ; 
Disdaining  all  the  snares  of  low  deceit, 
And  shunning  falsehood  with  assiduous  feet ; 
Were  dead  to  these,  life's  high  exalting  treasures, 
These  only  real  joys  and  lasting  pleasures. 
Hail,  then,  to  thee  !  where'er  thy  children  tread 
Wealth,  Liberty,  Content,  and  Honor  spread. 


A  HAZEL  EYE. 

There's  something  in  a  hazel  eye 

That  throws  a  potent  charm  around  it, 

To  hold  the  lingering  spirit  nigh 
The  lustrous  spell  that  bound  it. 

A  hazel  eye  !  it  thrills  the  frame  ; 

It  has  a  strange  and  witching  power 
To  kindle  in  the  heart  a  flame 

That  dies  not  in  an  hour. 

A  hazel  eye  !  whene'er  its  glance 
With  magic  might  is  fixed  on  thine, 

Beware  !  it  may  thy  heart  entrance  : 
It  hath  been  so  with  mine. 


(33) 


ROBERT  BURNS. 

Praise  to  the  bard  ! — his  words  are  driven, 
Like  flower-seeds  by  the  far  winds  sown, 

Where'er,  beneath  the  sky  of  heaven, 

The  birds  of  fame  have  flown.         HALLECK. 

I. 

His  genius  was  a  burning  coal, 
Lighted  within  his  bosom's  core, 

Glowing  and  flaming  o'er  a  soul 
That  poetry's  own  impress  wore. 

II. 
His  lot  was  cast  in  humble  life ; 

His  name  no  princely  lineage  bore, 
Yet  kings  would  gladly  meet  in  strife 
To  wear  the  diadem  he  wore. 

III. 
The  crown  of  honor  and  of  worth, 

The  bright  unfading  wreath  that  fame 
Hath  woven  o'er  the  spot  of  earth, 

Honor'd  and  hallow'd  by  his  name. 

(34) 


DEATH. 

I. 
O,  death  !  thou  angel  of  the  night ; 

A  dark,  a  sad,  a  dreary  blight, 
Destroying  those  we  love  ; 

Breaking  the  dearest  ties  that  bind 

A  fellow  being  to  his  kind, 
And  oft  with  pain  inwove. 

II. 
The  gloomy,  dark,  and  settled  pall ; 

The  narrow  bier  that  holdeth  all 

The  heart  hath  doted  on  ; 
The  slowly  moving  mass  that  throng 
In  sad  and  pensive  mood  along; 
And  all  we  loved  is  gone. 

(35) 


36  DEA  TH. 

III. 

The  tomb — the  dark  and  clay-cold  earth 
Must  hold  the  gem  of  brightest  worth, 

That  feels  thy  chilling  breath  ; 
The  fairest,  loveliest,  noblest  born, 
That  ever  shall  the  earth  adorn, 

Must  sleep  at  last  in  death. 


ODE  TO  HOPE. 

Hail,  Heaven-born  Hope !  thy  radiant  light 

Is  beaming  on  me  now, 
While  darkness  wings  her  dreary  flight 

From  off  my  aching  brow. 
Sorrow  hath  lain  within  my  breast, 

Draining  the  life-blood  from  my  heart, 
Long  in  her  pallid  arms  compressed, 

Her  dismal  form  must  now  depart. 
Thy  Heaven-lit  smile  assumes  her  place ; 

Gleams  o'er  my  sorrow-stricken  mind  ; 
Lightens,  but  never  can  efface 

The  deep-worn  traces  left  behind. 

Bright  as  the  gem,  the  starry  gem, 

That  shines  above  me  now- 
The  loveliest  in  the  diadem, 

That  glows  on  heaven's  pure  brow. 

(37) 


38  ODE   TO  HOPE, 

Bright  as  the  sun,  the  flaming  sun, 
When  blazing  in  mid-day  ; 

The  beacon  of  the  Almighty  One, 
From  Him  a  struggling  ray. 

Thou  breakest  upon  the  gloomy  night, 
When  sorrow  rends  the  breast ; 

* 

A  solace  to  the  afflicted  sight, 
A  token  from  the  Holiest. 

Thou  com'st  when  pleasure  hovers  near 

To  light  her  on  awhile  ; 
When  danger  chills  the  heart  with  fear, 

To  warm  it  with  a  smile  ; 
When  life  is  drawing  to  its  close 

To  point  the  parting  soul  to  Heaven  ; 
To  lull  into  a  blind  repose, 

O'er  Error's  path  when  wildly  driven. 
Ever  a  welcome  guest  thou  art ; 

Ever  a  friend  in  joy  or  sorrow, 


ODE   TO  HOPE.  39 

Thy  habitation  is  the  heart, 

Thy  promises  are  for  the  morrow. 

Light  of  the  world  !  blest  gift  from  heaven  ! 

Pure  being  of  another  sphere; 
To  thee  alone  the  power  is  given, 

To  conquer  doubt,  to  quell  despair; 
To  guide  us  in  our  ardent  yearning, 

Through  childhood,  manhood,  youth,  and  age, 
Ever  thy  star  is  brightly  burning, 

From  heaven,  the  richest  heritage. 
All  hail,  sweet  Hope  !  my  heart  is  teeming 

With  thoughts  that  words  cannot  express ; 
Enough,-  thy  light  is  on  me  beaming, 

Enough  that  this  is  happiness. 


AMERICA. 

Land  of  the  free !  land  of  the  brave ! 

No  son  of  thine  can  be  a  slave  ! 

Will  never  bow  the  knee  to  power, 

Will  never  bear  the  despot's  chain. 

Their  free-born  souls  would  spurn  the  hour 

They  felt  a  tyrant's  galling  reign  ; 

Their  hearts  are  Freedom's  altar  high, 

Their  breasts  are  honor's  lofty  shrine, 
Where  burns  a  pure  and  ardent  fire 

Lit  by  the  eternal  power  divine. 

Such  are  thy  sons;  their  noble  sires  ! 
All  honor  to  their  glorious  name  ! 
May  we  transmit  their  patriot  fires, 
Unquenched  through  countless  years  of  fame. 
Our  noble  sires,  the  honored  dead  ! 

Their  blood  has  crimsoned  hills  and  plains, 

(40) 


AMERICA. 

But  their  free  spirit  has  not  fled — 

It  flows  through  all  their  children's  veins. 
Oh  that  some  wand  with  magic  spell 

Might  touch  my  lips,  and  bid  outflame, 
The  burning  thoughts  that  in  me  swell, 

To  blazon  forth  their  deathless  fame ! 
The  hand  is  weak  that  guides  the  pen- 

The  golden  words  refuse  to  flow, 
I  cease  my  task,  I  strive  in  vain 

To  speak  their  praise,  or  try  to  throw 
A  brighter  lustre  o'er  their  well-earned  gloryr 
Their  names  will  live  immortalized  in  story. 


TO  MISS  KATE 


Alas!  alas!  that  time  and  fate 
Should  interpose  'twixt  me  and  Kate  ! 
That  flower  of  matchless  beauty  rare, 
Whose  charms  no  language  can  declare. 

Those  sparkling  eyes  of  hazel  hue, 
Those  pearly  teeth  and  lips  so  true, 
Those  hands,  a  type  of  Nature's  skill, 
That  tongue  whose  tones  of  music  thrill ! 

I  went  to  church  with  her  to-day- 
I  heard  sweet  lips  so  softly  pray — 
Her  silvery  voice  rang  low  and  clear 
As  seraph's  from  another  sphere. 

On  the  delightful  sounds  I  hung, 

And  dreamed  old  Time  again  was  young, 

Fearing  the  Fairy  sitting  near 

Might  like  a  spirit  disappear. 

(42) 


TO  MISS  KA  TE  43 

As  we  walked  home  beneath  the  light 

o 

All  Nature  smiled  to  left  and  right ; 

The  Highlands  soared  their  skyward  way. 

The  Hudson  rolled  in  tranquil  play. 

•We  loitered  in  a  cottage  fair 
"Where  sat  a  lady  in  a  chair, 
Who  lured  her  bird  to  sin^  a  note 

o 

That  fell  like  honey  from  his  throat. 

Oh,  Lady  dear !  pray  do  not  smile, 
Because  you  so  my  heart  beguile ; 
Some  younger,  luckier,  happier  swain 
Will  win  the  prize  I  cannot  gain. 

#  •*  -x-  *  *  * 

#**»** 

And  now,  farewell  !  a  call  I  owe 
On  charming  Madame  B  *  *•_*_*  *  *t 
Whose  random  ways  and  frolic  grace 
Make  welcome  everywhere  her  face. 


44  TO  MISS  KA  TE  

• 

May  countless  blessings  on  you  wait, 

With  happiness  in  every  state ; 

A  home  endeared  by  love  and  peace, 

In  which  your  joys  will  never  cease. 

West  Point,  July,  1877. 


THE  INWARD  LIGHT. 

I  stood  and  watched  the  ceaseless  tide 

That  passed  along  the  street, 
Where  high  and  low  move  side  by  side, 

And  wealth  and  misery  meet. 

What  storms  and  passions — love  and  strife- 
What  dreams  of  wealth  and  fame, 

Pent  in  this  struggling  maze  of  life, 
Burn  on  with  quenchless  flame. 

The  radiant  sunbeam  from  on  high 

Shines  cloudless  on  the  way, 
Yet,  there  are  unseen  perils  nigh 

Unlighted  by  the  day : 

(45) 


46  THE  INWARD  LIGHT. 

Allurements  and  unnumbered  snares, 

Deceptive  in  their  guise, 
That  tempt  the  Thoughtless  unawares, 

Seem  from  the  ground  to  rise. 

As  motes  that  in  the  sunbeam  play, 

Or  vapor  in  the  air, 
Or  shadows  at  the  close  of  day, 

We  pass  and  disappear. 

O  mortals  drifting  near  and  far 

O'er  Life's  delusive  way, 
Where  will  you  find  a  guiding-star 

That  will  not  lead  astray  ? 

Within  there  burns  a  holy  Light, .' 

Implanted  by  the  All-wise, 
To  guide  the  erring  soul  aright 
To  glory  in  the  skies. 


THE  INWARD  LIGHT.  47 

If  hearts  world-charmed  and  proud  would  yield, 

The  spirit  humbly  bow 
To  that  blest  Light  within  revealed, 

Christ's  seal  were  on  the  brow. 

For  these  the  portals  open  wide 

Of  the  celestial  gate, 
And  guardian  angels  with  them  glide 

To  reach  the  mercy-seat. 

New  York,  1878. 


LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS. 

As  on  some  dusky  summer  day, 

When  clouds  and  gloom  obscure  the  sky, 
We  see  far  off  the  sunbeams  play 

While  round  us  naught  but  shadows  lie. 

We  see  the  distant  waters  gleam, 
We  see  the  hill-tops  all  aflame, 

While  near  us  rolls  the  sullen  stream, 
And  thunders  loud  the  storm  proclaim. 

*Tis  thus  when  all  around  our  way 

The  lowering  clouds  of  trouble  wait- 
When  all  is  dark,  without  a  ray, 

And  crushed  we  bend  to  adverse  fate. 

Oh,  then,  beyond  the  earth's  dark  wall, 
With  clearer  eye  and  keener  ear, 

We  see  the  light  celestial  fall, 

And  sounds  of  heavenly  music  hear. 

(48) 


LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS.  49 

And  as  the  shade  the  star  makes  bright 
The  light  of  day  conceals  from  view, 

So  death  will  pour  its  flood  of  light 
On  mysteries  undreamed  and  new. 

Thus  o'er  the  checkered  path  we  tread, 
The  lights  and  shadows  come  and  go, 

Until,  the  riddle  still  unread, 

Death  solves  Life's  problem  here  below. 

And  o'er  the  threshold  of  the  grave 
A  cloud  with  silvery  lines  appears. 

The  sun  hath  sunk  beneath  the  wave, 
But  welcome  to  th'  eternal  years. 

New  York,  1878. 


TO  A  YOUNG  LADY. 

O  gentlest  of  the  gentle  born, 

And  loveliest  of  the  fair, 
Thy  presence  cheers  the  heart  forlorn, 

And  lifts  the  soul  from  care. 

The  light  of  truth  is  in  thine  eyes — 

O'er  thy  bewitching  face, 
Like  transient  hues  in  sunset  skies, 

The  changing  beauties  chase. 

Thy  jewelled  hand,  so  soft  and  small, 

Its  pressure  starts  a  thrill. 
That  makes  the  heart  responsive  fall 

A  captive  to  thy  will. 

The  beauty  of  the  butterflies 

Is  in  their  outward  dress — 

(so) 


TO  A    YOUNG  LADY.  51 

Thine  outward  beauty  typifies 
Thine  inner  loveliness. 

Oh,  may'st  thou  ever  be  as  now, 

Dear,  peerless  friend  of  mine  ! 
May  sorrow  never  shade  thy  brow — 

Unending  joys  be  thine  ! 

Fit  homage  due  I  yield  to  thee, 

And  give  it  all  with  grace  ; 
Let  me  but  hope  that  I  may  see 

A  welcome  in  thy  face. 

Oh  did  I  love  as  I  should  love 

My  heart  would  ne'er  be  free, 
But  all  its  inmost  feelings  move 

In  sympathy  with  thee. 

June,   1878. 


WEST  POINT. 

I  slept  on  the  heights  of  Parnassus  last  night, 
I  drank  from  the  waters  of  Helicon's  stream, 

And^when  I  awoke  at  the  dawning  of  light, 

I  sighed  when  I  found  'twas  no  more  than  a  dream. 

I  sprang  from  my  couch,  to  my  dreams  bade  farewell, 
And  looking  out  on  the  green  Highland  Hills, 

I  felt  in  my  soul  such  ennobling  thoughts  swell, 
As  when  Nature's  wild  grandeur  the  heart  deeply 
thrills. 

Away  from  the  City's  loud  bustle  and  hum, 

Away  from  its  crowds  and  its  turbulent  streets; 

Melodious  the  notes  of  the  wood-robins  come 
In  ravishing  strains  from  their  sylvan  retreats. 

(52) 


WEST  POINT.  53 

The  incense  of  morning  floats  sweet  in  the  air 

As  rich  the  aroma  as  spice-lands  contain  ; 
It  comes  from  the  height   and  the  deep  mountain 
lair — 

From    flower,   shrub,   and    pine    tree,   and   grain- 
freighted  plain. 

The  Ages  roll  on  in  their  untiring  race  ; 

Yet  on  these  bald  rock-peaks  and  hill-tops  sublime, 
We  look  and  detect  not  a  sign  or  a  trace 

That  tells  of  the  change  or  the  ravage  of  Time. 

Oh,  the  infinite  beauty  of  Nature  is  here! 

On  wild  mountain  summits  unconquered  by  man, 
She  reigns  as  at  first,  in  a  virginal  sphere, 

Unchanged  her  dominion,  unaltered  her  plan. 

Oh,  here  is  the  place  to  bow  down  unto  God  ! 
In  this  holy  temple,  unmarred  by  man's  hand  ; 


54  WEST  POINT. 

Its  preachers  not  men,  the  frail  heirs  of  the  sod, 
But  wind,  cloud,  and  sky,  and  the  heaven-reach 
ing  land. 

Old  Putnam's  white  ramparts  look  down  from  the 
steeps ; 

The  Sugar-Loaf  Mountain  climbs  up  to  the  clouds, 
And  Anthony's  Nose  in  the  far  distance  sweeps — 

Beyond  it,  the  hills  in  their  mist-circled  crowds. 

The  Hudson  majestic,  the  noblest  of  rivers, 
Dear  stream  of  my  love  and  fond  admiration, 

Flows  through  its  deep  channel  in  tremulous  quivers, 
Bearing  down  on  its  breast  the  wealth  of  a  nation. 

t 

And  there  in  the  distance  the  swift  Powell  gleams 
Under  ANDERSON'S  guidance,  the  Queen  of  the 
Tide  ; 


IVEST  POINT.  55 

How  graceful  her  lines  as  she  catches  the  beams 
That  crown  her  with  light,  as   she  comes  in  her 
pride. 

And  through  the  lone  valley,  so  worthy  his  name, 
Aloft  on  his  pinion  the  bold  Eagle  flies 

And  floateth  along  in  the  morning's  bright  flame, 
Till  he's  lost  to  our  sight  in  the  depths  of  the  skies. 

Cozzens'  Hotel,  Jime,   1878. 


THE  SKULL. 

The  human  skull  ! — Oh,  who  can  tell 
The  workings  in  that  little  cell  ? — 
The  thousand  changing  thoughts  that  spring 
On  Fancy's  ever  fluttering  wing  ? — 
Glad  thoughts,  sad  thoughts — a  phantom  train- 
Flit  through  the  chambers  of  the  brain. 

Oh,  who  can  tell  the  joys  that  rise 
And  sparkle  in  our  soul-lit  eyes? 
The  hopes  that  warm,  the  doubts  that  chill- 
The  waverings  between  Good  and  111  ? 
The  anguish  of  the  tortured  heart, 
When  struck  by  sorrow's  piercing  dart, 
That  rankles  with  unceasing  smart? 
The  thundergust's  of  Passion's  power, 

When  Anger  rules  the  stormy  hour — 

(56) 


THE  SKULL.  57 

And  her  wild  rage  sweeps  o'er  the  mind, 
Leaving  a  shattered  wreck  behind — 
Strained  to  intensest  agony — 
Tumultuous  as  the  heaving  sea. 

• 

Like  to  yon  cloud,  which,  dark  as  fate 
Holds  on  its  course  in  silent  state, 
Till  lightning  rends  its  gloomy  veil, 
And  tears  to  shreds  its  shattered  sail: — 
E'en  so  our  soul,  when  passion-tossed, 
Becomes  a  wreck,  and  we  are  lost. 

Oh,  who  can  tell  the  thoughts  unspoken? 
The  secret  vows — the  kept,  the  broken  ? 
Who  shall  unlock  the  mystic  chain 
Which  binds  the  workings  of  the  brain? 
Who  shall  unroll  the  web  of  mind — 
The  tangled  thread  of  thought  unwind — 
Fathom  the  secrets  of  the  soul, 

% 

And  solve  the  mystery  of  the  whole  ? 


THE  POET. 

There  are  in  life  a  thousand  themes 

That  touch  the  poet's  ardent  soul- 
A  thousand  thoughts,  like  sunny  gleams, 

That  o'er  his  dreaming  spirit  roll. 
How  sweet  the  breath  of  summer  skies, 

How  gay  the  flowers  that  greet  the  sun, 
How  softly  fair  the  landscape  lies, 

How  calm  the  rivers  run. 

N 

The  poet's  soul  is  like  a  star, 

'Tis  like  all  pure  and  brilliant  things  ; 
A  rainbow  to  our  eyes  afar, 

Borne  up  on  angels'  wings. 

Jn  words  of  flame  his  thoughts  are  traced, 

And  branded  on  the  melting  heart  ; 

(58) 


THE  POET,  59 

Like  signet  seals  by  wax  embraced, 

Th'  impression  forms  the  fairest  part. 
But  as  yon  Lyre  that  lights  the  skies, 

Whose  strings  eternal  hymnings  pour- 
Whose  liquid  glory  fills  our  eyes- 

In  radiance  from  the  heavenly  shore  ; 
Even  so  his  words,  like  yon  sweet  vision, 

(The  hymnings  of  his  sacred  lyre,) 
Will  trance  our  souls  in  dreams  elysian, 

And  light  our  eyes  with  heaven-born  fire. 

And  life  is  as  an  open  book  : 

He  reads  the  moral  on  its  page, 
And  kneels  with  reverential  look, 

And  owns  its  precepts  sage. 
He  scans  the  heart — his  eagle  ken 

Detects  the  inmost  feelings  there  ; 
He  roams  amidst  the  haunts  of  men, 

Or  fancy-led  through  fields  of  air — 


60  THE  POET. 

Or,  pilgrim-like  he  seeks  the,  spot 
Where  genius  lies  entomb'd  in  dust, 

And  tearful  sees  the  marble  rot, 
Regardless  of  its  sacred  trust. 

The  jade,  Ambition,  goads  him  on, 

To  climb  the  slippery  heights  of  fame  : 
No  echo  from  her  lofty  throne 

Swells  to  prolong  his  name. 
His  struggling  spirit  bears  him  up, 

To  face  the  world  and  its  cold  sneer — 
To  drink  from  misery's  drainless  cup, 

And  die, — tJien  be  immortal  here  ? 
Bear  witness  all  ye  mighty  shades, 

Who  suffer'd  scorn,  and  want,  and  woe  ; 
Whose  genius,  like  the  air  pervades 

Each  spot  where'er  we  go. 

Time  was,  in  Eden's  blooming  bower, 
Six  thousand  dreamy  years  ago, 


THE   POET.  6 1 

A  lover  knelt,  and  owned  the  power- 

The  witchery  that  love  can  throw. 
The  Ages  tread  with  solemn  pace, 

Tracking  deep  furrows  in  the  ground, 
Like  giants  in  their  rapid  race  ; 

Earth  reels  beneath  their  bound. 
But  still  the  self-same  tale  is  told, 

And  love  is  still  the  burning  story: 
The  poet's  heart  can  ne'er  grow  cold 

While  woman  smiles  or  earth  has  glory! 


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FormL9-42m-8,'49(B5573)444 


PS     Lav/rence 
22o2   Poems 
L45A17 


1879 


PS 


1879 


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000034510    8 


